William Davis - The Polaroid club book II

"It means," Samuels explained with a gap-toothed smile, "that we at the post office have a book which contains the names and addresses of known pornographers and subversives. This box number is on that list… as the senders of dirty, lewd photographs through our mails in the past."

"But… but such a book is illegal!" protested Cindy.

"Not as far as we're concerned," said the wizened clerk. "We have to look after the interests of the American public, and preventing the wanton use of our mails for filth is in those best interests. A new postal regulation has been passed recently, allowing us to open mail at will if we suspect it contains harmful or subversive material."

"How can there be a law like that?" Cindy found herself becoming righteously angry. "It's unconstitutional! It's… almost Communistic! This is a democracy, not some… some dictatorship!"

Samuels drew himself up indignantly, his eyes flashing. "That's right, Mrs. Jamison. This is a democracy. And it's our job, as public servants, to see that it remains a democracy! If we allow filth and disgusting Fifth Column propaganda to be freely distributed throughout this great land of ours, what will happen to the foundations upon which our government is built? They will collapse, that's what! Filthy Commies will take over, as they're trying to do right now all over the country. They've got a toehold in our colleges and universities already, trying to subvert our education system, but they won't succeed in the government agencies, mark my words! We'll stop them, dedicated men like myself, empowered by our great Congress with the authority to crush subversion and drug shipping and yes, pornography, for garbage such as that is rotting the minds of our clear-thinking youth. It's all a Communist plot, Mrs. Jamison, every last bit of it!"

His eyes glittered almost maniacally, and the young housewife drew back in fear and trepidation. What kind of man was this Steve Samuels? Spouting rightist-extreme policy and belief, and yet having a position of authority in the post office. And, most terrifying of all, he seemed to possess an evil expression that forewarned her of the presence in his brain of the self-same lewdness against which he spoke so vehemently. She trembled violently as a possibility entered her mind: what if this little, ugly man who sat across from her was… insane?

"So don't talk to me about illegality and Communism, Mrs. Jamison," Samuels continued. "This country is at last coming to its senses, and none too soon, let me tell you." He paused, swinging the manila envelope out in his hand, extending it to her. "Now then, let's see what this little parcel contains, shall we? Let's see if there is any sickness and evil inside that must be crushed."

Cindy took the envelope with trembling fingers, handling it as though it were a bomb which might explode in her hands. "If… if what you say is true," she managed to quaver, "if you can open the public's mail at will without their knowledge, then why did you call me and tell me this had to be opened in front of a postal employee?"

"A good question, Mrs. Jamison," chuckled the civil servant. "And the answer is simply that I find myself feeling benevolent at times, when I suspect that something demeaning is being sent to a person who might deserve a second chance. In other words, Mrs. Jamison, a person who is not a leftist Commie or a sick perverted soul; a person who has made one mistake, and should, because that person is basically good and honest, be given a second chance. I think you're the kind of person, Mrs. Jamison, and I want to help you. I wouldn't want to see you exposed as a Commie, or a sex degenerate."

The lovely wife shuddered, for there was an oily, frightening quality to Samuels' voice that contained the consideration of things unspeakable. And his eyes… his terrible eyes… they seemed to be stripping her of her clothes, boring through her naked flesh underneath…

"Now then, Mrs. Jamison," Samuels said. "Let's open that envelope, shall we? Right now. I want to see what's inside."

Cindy willed her quaking fingers still, and managed to tear the top off the manila envelope. She reached inside, withdrew the contents partially. As she did so, Samuels suddenly leaped up and took two long strides across to her and jerked the contents out of her hands, causing her to gasp and draw back in fear against the cushions of the chair.

Samuels limped back to the sofa and sat down with the material which had been in the envelope. His fingers rifled through it, and his smile grew wider, more venereous. "Aha!" he cried. "Just as I expected!" And it was: photos, six of them, bound together with a paper clip – and if the top one was any indication, they were some of the best he had ever seen in sharpness and detail. There was also a typewritten letter, and another typed sheet.

Samuels' fingers were palsied with excitement. He had known intuitively that these were what was in the envelope when it had come into the post office this afternoon, and he had had to resist an immediate impulse to open the envelope. Better, he finally decided, to bring it out here to this young bitch Mrs. Cindy Jamison, have her open it; it was the chance he had been waiting for! But he had to make sure her husband wouldn't be home, so he could have her all to herself, and thus he had called the automobile agency were he had learned Howard Jamison worked – Auto Circus – and asked to speak to him, thinking to find out surreptitiously what time Jamison quit work for the evening so as to plan his attack accordingly. His elation had been huge when he learned that Howard Jamison was out of town for three days, in Los Angeles for some kind of convention. He had immediately, then, called this haughty bitch and made his appointment for tonight; as he had hoped, she had become nervous and frightened by his call, and had been partaking of more than one glass of liquor. She was nice and high now – and he had something in his pocket which would make her even higher. Oh, everything was working beautifully! He was really going to fuck this beautiful young wife tonight! Fuck her like he had never fucked anyone before in his life! His cock throbbed with anticipation and excitement.

He tore the paper clip off the pictures, and looked through them. Lewd, disgusting… good, good, just what he had hoped for! He glanced through the letter, his mouth salivating slightly, and then looked up at the fear-immobilized young wife. "Mrs. Jamison, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, allowing yourself to be duped by these filth peddlers. You're very lucky I've decided to take pity on you and want to help you; very lucky. Listen to this: Dear friends," he quoted from the letter, "Many thanks for your photos, which we've just received. They weren't bad, although some of them were lacking in detail; the camera angle seems to be wrong. You might try using closeups more often. We've discussed them at length, my wife and I, and have decided you're probably new at this so if there's any help we can give you, don't hesitate to ask us. We've been exchanging photos with other couples for some time, and have quite a bit of experience. Enclosed are some of our best shots, to give you an idea of what we mean. Hope you like them, and will be sending us others in the future of yourselves. Welcome to the club. All best. Signed, Tom C."

Grinning obscenely, the postal clerk cast the letter from him. "Filthy, isn't it, Mrs. Jamison? Disgusting!"

Cindy could only nod her head numbly, staring out of rounded eyes at the man who sat on her sofa. The vodka was causing her temples to throb, and she tried to will her mind clear, so that she could think what to do, what to say. But it was useless; she had drunk too much, and the forceful, depraved nature of Steve Samuels appeared to have put her into an almost trance-like state.